White Mulberry Leaves
by Vombatus Ursinus
Summary: Roman struggles to understand his new nature unguided whilst maintaining some semblance of normal life. Meanwhile, a strange disease is making its way through Hemlock Grove, causing a variety of disturbing symptoms. Multiple chapter-length story is planned.
1. Maturity

AN: This is intended to follow immediately after the Netflix OS version of Hemlock Grove.

It seemed somehow apt that the first decision Roman made upon formally accepting his position as head of his family's lucrative estate was to un-enroll from public school and hire a part-time tutor to take care of the necessary evil that was acquiring a diploma. Despite everything he had been through, formal schooling still held an intimidating mystique that made it impossible for him to entirely shirk it. Still, the responsibilities that came with managing a business like the Godfrey Institute had to take precedence, and he hadn't the time or the patience to trap himself in a building for 8 hours a day.

Well, that, and the hallways and classrooms held too many uncomfortable memories. It took only one day back after his mother's death to realize that he would never be able to avoid glancing at the seat that Peter once occupied, or the stretch of lockers where he might have once met his sister before calculus, or...

It simply wasn't worth it. He might scowl inwardly at the realization that as his power grew his range diminished, the area of the world open to him dwindled until he felt like a tiger pacing in a too-small exhibit. The pretense of the forest surrounded him but he could never quite ignore that the river was man-made, the vegetation unfamiliar, alien, possibly fake. The nostalgic trees of the outside world smelled too much like the werewolf, an ever-increasing array of new and more traumatizing sensory input crowded his mind ever since _that night_. The _upir_ struggled to force these primal thoughts away with obligation, privileging the ordinary world of human business and diplomatic relations in a way he never had before realizing that he was never truly a part of it.

Roman sat at the head of the long dining room table, polished so intensely that even the dim overhead light caused painful glares to reflect from its surface. His small-faced, ruddy-skinned tutor bent over a stack of papers, scrutinizing them carefully before turning his head up at the young heir and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Well, I would say this is adequate, yes," he muttered, his thin lips smacking together. The sound almost made the _upir_ shudder. Roman turned his attention from the large picture window displaying the heavy darkness outside to the man he had charged with the fate of his schooling. His expression was politely blank. The tutor hesitated a moment, blanched almost imperceptibly at the younger man's gaze, and then continued.

"All that's left at this point is passing your final trigonometry exam and returning your essay on Ovid's _Metamorphoses_ and I will be able to submit your final evaluations to the state. You should receive your diploma before the end of spring." The man tapped his stack of papers against the glossy mahogany and rose. He held his weight awkwardly, as if he was unsure of which leg to favor. To him, it seemed like an eternity before Roman responded by pushing back and standing from his own heavy chair.

The pair of them walked silently to the front of the house. The door creaked painfully as it opened, as though it couldn't bear to disturb the sad, empty building. The _upir_ met his tutor's eyes.

"Should I email the essay?" His voice was quiet, soft, even, unwilling to communicate even the barest hint of emotion or preference.

The man's eyes widened, his mouth opened slightly, he looked almost afraid. And then startled. "Yes! Yes," he stuttered. "That'll be fine." He nodded his head as though to end the exchange and stepped through the door. Roman watched him return to his car and it was as though a weight visibly lifted from the older man's shoulders. The stiffness in his back receded, it was nearly a slump.

The _upir_ had to restrain himself heavily from closing the distance between them and tearing through the man's rough, blotchy throat. For some reason it was always as he left. Sitting across from the man for 10 hours a week was tolerable, but watching him leave... especially when he was able to see his influence leave his body so readily. It enraged him, stoked the fire that fueled his hunger and he was nearly ravenous with anger and need. He shut the door carefully, very carefully, without indication of his heightened emotional state or the desire he felt to challenge the muscles he felt tensing in his arms, all over his body.

Roman inhaled deeply, was about to exhale when he caught the sharp gust of air that followed him in from the door. He spun immediately and yanked it back open, green eyes darting madly across the yard, watching the taillights of his tutor's car disappear down the drive. That smell!

He nearly threw himself into a mad search of his property and the surrounding woods before a distant, grating bark informed him of the dog out for a late run with its master. He stiffened, scanned the yard around him as though searching for someone that might have witnessed his indiscretion. Nothing moved in the darkness.


	2. Obligations

Roman slept in. He always slept in. Did it still count as "sleeping in" when the schedule was habitual? The world moved on without him until around noon every day, and even then he rose reluctantly. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and paused for a moment before standing with visible effort. The heavy curtains that hung over his window were presently pulled aside, the bright early afternoon sunlight jabbing needles into his eyes and shaking the last bit of fatigue from his head.

He prepared for the day slowly, as though he would rather put off what was about to come. Around 2 PM he found himself seated in front of his car, checking his hair for the 3rd time in his rearview mirror. Satisfied with the reflection that peered back at him, he rolled out of the driveway and crawled into town. He couldn't help but feel a slight pang when he sped past Kilderry Park and intentionally avoided the high school on his way to the Godfrey Institute, where he was expected to be present for yet another endless round of numbing meets about finances and politics.

Roman managed to arrive early, and so he was surprised when he was confronted at the entrance by a frazzled, middle-aged man that he vaguely recognized as one of the doctors that worked in the Institute's growing obstetrics wing. The _upir_ watched the man in a confused haze for several moments before the panicked shouting began to take on some semblance of language.

"Wait, stop. What?" Roman demanded, eyebrows furrowed, his head pulled back and to the side as though he were trying to create as much space between himself and the doctor as he could reasonably manage while remaining polite.

"Please, speak to Dr. Pryce," the doctor managed to garble out before turning and leaving through a painfully white door that read "authorized personnel only". It was so sudden that Roman felt for a moment as though he was in some sort of fun house, like the kind his mother used to take him to at Kennywood, when he was a small child. He felt more startled now than he ever had during one of those crickety rides. It was a personal policy of his to speak to Pryce as little as possible. The only instances where he had been forced into such an uncomfortable position was during those rare times when Roman's authorization was required for some act that was not covered by company policy. If he had been able to hand the entire monstrosity over to Pryce he would have without a second thought. Unfortunately he was under no misconceptions about what he would be left with if Pryce gained control of the Institute.

Roman took the elevator up to the floor where Pryce kept his office in a bit of a haze. It smelled vaguely of antiseptic and... there was an unmistakable metallic tinge of blood in the air. Roman silently prepared himself for the hateful scientist. The _upir_ was used to pretending and had gotten quite good at ignoring elephants in rooms in particular, but the disdain he had for the man had morphed into something truly hideous. He would never forgive him, _could_ never forgive him, and yet was very aware of the debt he owed the man for the few tolerable portions of his life. Shelley, mainly. Not that the man had been there for her when she needed him most. When (not _if) _his sister came home he would have a thing or two to say to Dr. Johann Pryce.

The man met him before Roman had fully rounded the corner to his office door.

"You need to come into my office," he barked, his voice edgier than Roman ever remembered it being. "_Now._"

"Too modest to fuck me out here?" the teen sneered. Pryce prudently decided to ignore him.

Once seated at his desk Pryce's intensity suddenly began to appear much more reasonable.

"We've admitted 10 patients into our high security ward this week already, and it's apparent that we will have more to institutionalize very shortly. These... patients cannot be released and there is no other facility capable of holding them. We're running out of room, you see." The scientist folded his fingers together and looked as sternly at the impassive _upir_ as he could manage without making direct eye contact. "I'm not authorized to make the necessary decisions," he shrugged, looking more irritated by the fact that his power was limited than by the gravity of what he was asking Roman to sign off on.

"So... what?" Roman said, raising his eyebrows. This would not be the first (nor, he imagined, the last) time in the past several months he would be asked to agree to some morally abhorrent action on behalf of the company that he had both thankfully and regretfully inherited."What do you expect me to say? Kill them-?"

"We like to think of it as 'discharging'," Dr. Pryce interrupted with a little smile.

"I don't even know what's wrong with them."

His smile broadened. "I could show you if you'd like. I think it'll interest you very much."


End file.
